Barricade
by LoveDrunk22
Summary: What if Eponine and Enjolras survived the barricade? What would life be like for them? One-Shot inspired by the song, "Barricade" by Stars... I really need to get better at summaries.


**So oh my God, guys, pray for me I'm attempting a 1832 time period Enjonine story this time, seriously I'm freaking out that I'm gonna mess up.  
****Another reason why it would be okay to pray for my mental sanity is OMFG I'M A SOPHMORE NOW HOLY HELL AND AP WORLD HISTORY IS GOING TO KILL ME.  
****Another thing, I had to do a presentation on the Chilean flag in Spanish and the red represents the blood spilled to achieve independence and I saw a chance and I took it so I said, "and red, the blood of angry men"  
****By the way inspiration for this story is "Barricade" by Stars so…um….yeah, here we go.**

* * *

Enjolras and I were upstairs face to face with the National Guard. His revolution had failed and we were the only ones left. I knew that he was willing to die for his cause. I looked over at his face and suddenly, it didn't matter to me that I was going to die, he was the only thing that mattered and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he felt the same way.  
I couldn't believe I had wasted so much of my time trying to get Marius to notice me, when Enjolras was the one I was meant to be with. He had always been there for me when no one else was around, not because he wanted to hide our friendship, but because I wouldn't talk to him until after everyone had gone home. It surprised me that the revolutionary would care so much about a street urchin. Then one day it turned into something more and I couldn't be happier.  
I remember earlier on in the day when he beat Inspector Javert and then turned him over to Jean Valjean for betraying our trust. I held my breath as I watched him swing; he was never a violent person, so it was shocking. When he was done, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked at me, giving me an apologetic look. He knew I'd seen enough beatings in my life.  
At that time, we still had hope in patria and that we would win a victory for her. Now, the odds were not on our side.

How could anyone not love everything he did, no matter how terrible it seemed to be at the time? He had a way of making everything make sense when he talked. You couldn't help but love him. No wonder the Les Amis helped him; Enjolras always made you want to believe in something, he made you think you could do anything you wanted to, like you; just by yourself could change the world. Now, all those boys lost their lives, because no one could resist trying to help him fight for his cause.

Now here we were, in the upstairs of the Café, funny we should end up here after everything isn't it? He took my hand in his as we stood by the window. The National Guard raised their guns and we thought this was how it was going to end for us. I began to think of every mistake I'd ever made and how I wished I could take most of them back, I almost felt as if I wanted to cry, then suddenly everything changed.  
Life has a funny and sick way of turning out.

Javert arrived and told the National Guard to put their guns down, to let us go, and they listened to him.  
The inspector said nothing to us, only walked out a few moments after the National Guard did, leaving both me and Enjolras awestruck.  
Enjolras and I were free and we walked the streets, trying our hardest not to look at the dead bodies of all of our friends.  
We tried to be happy, we really did, but it was so hard without the rest of the boys there with us.  
We tried to be happy for them, for the fact that at least we were alive, for everything that mattered, but we never could, not really.

How could anyone not want to escape from it all? It torn me apart everyday and I know it was even worse on Enjolras.  
He began to be made of marble again; never showing how he felt, never letting me in anymore, but how could anyone not love him? He was simply amazing and mesmerizing in every way. How could anyone not love his heart that had grown cold?

One Saturday, I went to the café and found him there, sitting at a table with a drink in his hand, looking as numb as ever.  
"I have to go, Eponine," he said, "I can't stay here where the memories haunt me constantly."  
"Let me come with you," I said.  
He gave me a small, sad smile and said, "Don't come, being around you doesn't really help either. I can't be around anything that reminds me of them, of everything right now, just let me go, Eponine."  
And, no matter how much it broke my heart to do so, I let him go. I knew it was for the best, but I couldn't help the feelings of emptiness that crept inside of my heart when he was gone for good.

It was years before I saw him again.  
It was the crowded streets of Paris and he'd physically changed. He looked like he'd been softened by age and people oppressing his views, saying he was too much of a liberal, telling him he was too much of a radical, telling him, "Just look at what happened to all those students in the June rebellion!", not knowing he was part of it.  
It didn't matter what other people had to say about him or his personality, his riotous spirit was what drew me to him in the first place.  
"Enjolras!" I called out after him.  
He turned around, surprised to see me. After the rebellion I let my father think I was dead and began to work at the Café Musain, even if Enjolras couldn't handle the memories, I needed to remember that there were people who wanted a better life for me and people like me, so in honor of them, I worked at the café.  
"Eponine, how have you been?" he asked when we were face to face again.  
"I'm fine, but it seems to me as if you changed much," I said.  
"How could anyone not finally diminish?" he asked, "Everywhere I go I am constantly reminded of my failure and everyone keeps talking of how the students wasted their lives. I guess, I just want to be able to forget everything and move on."  
"But what made you change? You were once so passionate! You can't let them kill your spark, Enjolras. This isn't you. I know how hard it is to try to move on without them, okay? But we have to, but moving on doesn't mean forgetting, don't let them kill your spirit," she said as she looked into his eyes that had become sunken in and were dull.  
"I cannot do it, for me, moving on is the equivalent of forgetting, and I cannot do that, there is only darkness at the end of everything I do" he said.  
I was tired of hearing him talk like this, why did he do this to himself? "Meet me at where the barricade once was," I said.  
"What?"  
"Just meet me at the barricade," I said before walking away, I really hoped he would show up.

He did. I was happy to say the least; maybe this would help to bring back the passion that drew me to him in the first place, the passion that made me fall in love with the revolutionary.  
He looked around, as if to remember everything that had happened here and said, "They died, but the hate won't fade."  
In that moment, I saw the passion begin to come back. "So fight for their lives, don't let their deaths be in vain," I said.  
"Will you be there for the next barricade?" he asked as he searched my eyes for the truth.  
"I'll be at the barricade," I said.  
"Well then, mademoiselle, let us get to planning," he said as he held out his hand for me to take.  
"To the barricades it is then, monsieur" I said as we ran into the café to avenge the deaths of our friends.

* * *

**Yes I know this song is about soccer (football) but, I mean, come on, it screams Enjolras right?  
****Anyway, thanks for reading.**


End file.
